


Playing The Game

by sku7314977



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Beads, BDSM, Bondage, Chess, Collars, Dubious Consent, Fingering, I've done research and am doing my best!, M/M, Master/Slave, Restraints, Sex, Sex Toys, Smut, Spreader Bars, This is my first time writing this kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-05 08:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1812586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sku7314977/pseuds/sku7314977
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will's life is repetitive and dull, when a stranger offers him a little bit of excitement he gets in over his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stranger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whiskeyandspite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/gifts), [cognomen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cognomen/gifts).



> I accidentally fell in love with the series "All or Nothing At All" by whiskeyandspit and cognomen and was wonderfully encouraged to try my hand at the BDSM I'd stumbled across there, so this is for them for being wonderful and encouraging!
> 
> Thank you both so much for the gift and for urging me to try something new, I didn't think I liked/would this and have been enjoying myself shamelessly while writing it (what have you done to me?).
> 
> That said I offer a formal apology to anyone living the BDSM life style should I get portions of this wrong or offer offense. I'm not out to insult anyone, just writing for fun and hoping I get it right (I've read Wiki and 3 essays on it looking for a better understanding before I pursued this).
> 
> Now on with the story!!!
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not Beta Read.

Will didn’t like people, or perhaps it would have been more accurate to suggest that people didn’t like Will, and he was fine with that. He wasn’t lonely and didn’t ache for the companionship of others as was typical of most people. He had a pack of strays living in the back ally of his apartment to stave off that bit of insanity, the food he left them each day earning him their unconditional love.

Thanks to a cocktail of neurosis that allowed him to see all too much of the people he socialized with, reading those he met like an open book of information he didn’t want to know, Will was labeled a freak for his unsettling insight and the quirky habits he used to cope with his intuitive nature and crippling empathy. At some point reaching the silent but mutual agreement between himself and the general public that solitude would suit Will best.

He was quiet, intelligent and for the most part kept to himself. The only contradiction to his near consuming isolation being his job, Will worked the tables of a Baltimore café called _Ullr_. Aptly named after the Norse god of the hunt and games, the café was known for its variety of game meat panini’s, dark espressos and a collection of polished stone tables that filled the shop both inside and out. Each table was topped with a stone slab stained, carved and polished into either a Go, Backgammon or Chess board, all the pieces for which available to patrons through their server with the order of a beverage.

At Some point the small café had become rather haute thanks to a growing popularity among the Baltimore elite, a quasiessential for the food connoisseur. Will had been among the first hired for the small shop, a friend of his father’s opening the place and offering Will financial security as an old favor to his war buddy. It allowed him to work in a social atmosphere without too much fear of being fired, it had also only had the small clientele expected of new shops that allowed Will to pay his rent with minimal social interaction and comfort until a foodie with a blog and too much time on her hands turned it into the next biggest trend.

Once the foot traffic tripled, her column bringing socialites into the shop in small well-dressed droves, Will found he was no longer able to avoid that eye contact that unsettled him as easily as he once had before without a lasting effect on his tips and was forced to adapt, the somber young man acquiring a pair of thick rimmed glasses to wear low on his nose and effectively cut the customer in half, allowing him to stare at the frames instead of the patron.

With one obstacle gone the others seemed to fall into place, a soft smile pulling lips into something fake though more appealing and the half-hearted small talk needed to push socialites toward making an order coming to Will with relative ease.

Working at the small café Will didn’t have the most money in the world and after growing up poor wasn’t truly bothered by such things, so long as he had a roof over his head and enough food in his belly to stave off hunger Will counted himself as cared for and spent the remainder of his paycheck on kebble and shots for the strays out back. It had been that way for the last two years making life, as far as Will was concerned, repetitive and dull.

Until the day Frederic Chilton, one of the café’s more pompous regulars, brought one of his esteemed colleagues, out for lunch. He chatted with the polite though obviously uninterested man and lost two rounds of Go before leaving together.

Though the man never returned for lunch with the ever infamous doctor Chilton he did begin coming to the café on a regular basis in the mornings for espresso and breakfast, or coffee and a panini to go.

If Will had to guess, given who he’d initially come with, he would have said the man was a doctor. Always sitting strait as was dictated by good etiquette with surgeon steady hands and refined in a way that spoke of a lifestyle bedecked with old and new money. The man always appeared content when he sat alone at one of the café’s polished tables, a game of chess or Go laid out before him to play against himself, as though his own mind would be the only true challenge in all of Baltimore. It was quirky enough when paired with the man’s atrocious sense of style, bold colored plaid and paisley, that the man caught and held Will’s usually socially avoiding attention, the waiter often catching himself to quietly studying the man as he worked the floor and cleared tables on the days that this doctor came by.

Will often wondered if perhaps the stranger was as bored as he was, watching the man as much as he watched the games he played in solitude, the elegant movement of stones or pawns from square to square, his keen mind often ending the game several turns early as he already knew it’s conclusion and no longer wished to continue that which ending was already wrote.

Clearing away tables Will expected to see the same that morning as well, the stranger working the white king into checkmate with a still, almost bored expression on his handsome face. Will could read it in the man’s dark eyes as easily as if he had made the complaint aloud, his silent voice proclaiming that no possible moves remained that could save the white king from his coming defeat.

Will wanted to ruin his conviction like a blood stain on fresh sheets.

In a brazen act as much unexpected by Will as it had been by the man, he took the white rook in passing and slid the piece across the board to take the doctor's queen.

The heat of eyes caressed his back as he walked to clear another table; loading his trey with discarded cups and plates as at last he gained the full attention of the man who had held his for nearly three months. A small smile pulled his lips as he turned around to once again pass the man who sat alone, storm colored eyes glancing at the board to reveal the absence of the queen from play and a black bishop shifted to counter Will’s rook.

Taking another piece in hand, a knight this time, he put the man’s king into check.

It was the first time he'd seen a smile pull the stoic man’s bowed lips and it made Will's stomach do a flip to know he’d been its cause, at last a reprieve from the boredom that haunted them both.

It was also the first time he'd been tipped a fifty for serving espresso and a panini.

After that things became more interesting. The man whose name Will still did not know began showing up every day for breakfast to set the table for chess or Go, always taking the black and always waiting for Will to make the first move.

It wasn’t until the third week that Will finally got the message.

The following day when the stranger arrived at his usual time for breakfast, following the pattern of Wills schedule with uncanny accuracy it was to the unexpected surprise of his favored waiter taking the day off. The man walking outside to his favored table on the patio to discover Will already seated with board set and an espresso sitting at his opposite, on the board a white pawn sat two spaces ahead, the first move taken.

Will sipped his coffee, eyes fixed on the board as the man he had spent the last three weeks playing against took the opposing seat. “What happens after I make the first move?” Will asked, names still ungiven between them as he watched a black piece move across the board to match his own.

A curious tilt, the raise of an ashen brow and the barest pull of lips as the man first scents and then sipped the espresso provided, a low hum of approval Will’s only answer for a short second before a pair of strange maroon eyes turned to find his own, a shade of brown he had never seen before and doubted he will ever see again. “I believe the goal is to move the other into checkmate.”

“I don’t suppose you mean that literally,” Will took his pawn, “Do I get your name?”

Another thoughtful hum, the slide of a bishop and Will was short a knight. “Perhaps, do you suppose you can beat me?”

Will smiled bemused, “Are we still talking about chess?”

“We never were.” He leaned back, leaving Will to examine the board and the check mate played out for him there.

His dark brows furrowed, stormy eyes searching for the move which had been misplayed. Another smile, another misstep, “How long have you been playing me?” He re-set the board, thinking back to his first win and how many others he had stolen since; How many rounds the man had thrown to draw Will to him like a moth to the flame.

“Since you claimed my queen,” he smiled, that minute expression of barely shifting lips, so easy to miss if one weren’t looking for it as Will was. He sipped his espresso with nothing short of devious mirth dancing in sharp eyes and made a polite demand, “May I have my prize now?”

Will nearly laughed, once again moving his pawn as he tried to recall the four move checkmates he’d once learned in high school. “Will Graham.”

“Will,” He said it as though tasting it, a fine wine sliding over his tongue or the shift of silk over skin. “Not William?”

“No,” He frowned as another pawn was stolen, “William makes me feel as though I’m being reprimanded.”

Another curious smile, as though he had learned something interesting. “Can you think of a more fitting prize?” His amusement spread, creasing the corners of his eyes as Will’s hand stilled over his rook, the younger man realizing belated that he had once again been cornered into checkmate.

“I suppose I can’t refuse.” He leaned back, chewing his lip as he considered the board being reset. “I want a gift then.”

The man stilled, dark eyes turning up to meet with Will’s, or at least look at them, Will’s own were staring over his shoulder, no intention of making proper eye contact with his opponent, “A gift? Is this a demand or request?”

“Whatever it has to be,” Will answered plainly, “Give me your name. I need to call you something.”

Amused wasn’t the right word, not for the kind of dark humor playing through those eyes. “A name?” Another hum , the man considering the offer before countering with his own, “No, not a name. That will be earned, allow me to propose something better instead.”

“I’d rather have your name.” Will admitted, but didn’t’ refuse.

A finger touched his own as he moved to shift a pawn, directing him to take a knight instead, it had Will wondering exactly how poorly he had been playing against this stranger for the last three weeks while walking around feeling smug at having presented the man a challenge. He’d been nothing more than an amusement, “Dinner.”

“Dinner?” Will had been expecting a request for Backgammon or Go to give him perhaps a better chance at honestly winning the strangers name, not an invitation.

Again a hand directed Will to take another piece than he’d intended. “I will cook for you this evening and you will earn my name.”

Will didn’t take the queen as instructed, instead moving a rook. “I don’t know your name and you want me to come over for dinner?”

He lost his rook and three turns later, the game. “You’re bored William,” Will felt the slid of a foot along his calf, enough of the cards revealed to let him know certain expectations should invitation be accepted, “Allow me to alleviate that boredom.”

Will looked at the chess board, “Is that your third prize?”

The man checked his watch, laying a few bills on the table, beneath the king, before coming around to capture Will’s chin in the curl of strong fingers, tilting his face towards his own and forcing stormy eyes to find sanguine. “The dinner is a gift,” he captured Will’s lips with a firm but gentle press, drinking in the stillness of his surprise before pulling away to lick at where flesh had only touched, as though he were cleaning away the flavors of Will with the sweep of his tongue. “I’ll see you tonight, seven sharp.”

He left Will with a folded piece of paper he had to wonder how long the man had been carrying for such an opportunity to arise and a notable folded twenty under the king. The man was paying for breakfast as well.

OoOoO

What did one bring to dinner when visiting a stranger? Social grace and etiquette tended to escape Will on a fairly normal day, given the circumstances of their rather peculiar relationship Will was at a total loss. As such, he spent twenty dollars on a bottle of wine and was more than a little tempted to turn around, climb back into his old Volvo and drive away instead of meeting the man for dinner.

The house was massive, telling more truths behind Will’s earlier assumption of money than he would have liked confirmed. It was making the young man very self-aware of the old and oversized polyester shirt and khakis he had thought to wear, feeling very out of place in the wealthy neighborhood as he fought the nervous urge to run.

But he still didn’t have a name and this was the most interesting thing to happen to Will in so long it had the generally inverted man knocking twice before he could think better of it and lose his nerve.

The doors opened to reveal the man he had come to know through table service dressed down in slacks, a button down and apron. “Will, so glad you could make it. Please, come in.” he stepped to the side, allowing the younger man to enter before closing the door. It felt more like he’d closed a cage.

“Thank you for having me.” He murmured his reply, allowing the assumed doctor to slide the jacket from his shoulders to hang before accepting the gifted bottle.

“It’s my pleasure.” The man examined the bottle and Will walked farther into the grand house, not wishing to see any signs of either disappointment or pleasure that might play through the stranger. He would feel them too sharply, like the blade of a knife under his skin. Despite his best efforts he would not be able to hide his disappointment from Will and in turn Will would feel it lingering under his skin for the remainder of the evening, for Will it was just better to walk away and leave him to discern for himself whether he was pleased with the presented gift or not.

Fleeting glances danced around the lavish room, compelling Will to clasp his hands behind his back with the ingrained nature of a man who had been scolded to keep his hands to himself as a child, a subconscious intimidation of the lavish room and all its expensive and fragile possessions.

“This is a lovely wine,” the man complimented, far closer to Will than he had expected, he hadn’t heard him move, but there was a warm breath ghosting over his ear and the hand that settled on the small of his back, guiding Will deeper into the lion’s den and around a corner into the dining room. Though oddly the large table laid completely bare save for the Chess board that set in its middle. “We will enjoy sipping this later tonight.”

Will’s brow furrowed as he took in the dining arrangement, or lack thereof, stormy eyes peeking over the edge of glasses rims to see if perhaps there were a joke behind this that he had missed, but for all the secrets laying locked beneath the man’s mask the answer to that remained hidden. “I don’t understand. I thought you invited me to dinner, why are we playing chess? Do I have to earn my meal too?”

“In a sense,” He urged Will to sit, disappearing into the kitchen with bottle in hand. If Will leaned he could see the strong line of shoulders and back working as the man corked the wine and poured its rich liquid into a decanter for later consumption.

“Am I playing for answers?” Will snipped, moving a pawn as the man checked something before removing his apron to redress in a waist coat before joining Will at the table.

That look was back, the one he’d seen when he’d felt the slide of a foot along his calf, a carnal shift in the strangers dark eyes. “You will earn my name as previously agreed.” He moved a pawn of his own, “Dinner will be your gift to receive once I deem it so,” Will moved another in turn, “And the game will be used to decide your conditions for the evening.” He took Will’s pawn. “Each piece captured will earn you a restraint; each piece reclaimed will free you of it.”

Will watched his pawn disappear to the side of the table. “Would it be safe for me to assume these conditions will hold sexual undertones?” He moved another pawn, capturing that of the man’s to place to the side next to his own.

“They will,” he conceded, waiting for Will’s consent before the game continued.

Will looked at the pawn sitting lost to the side and the man who had stolen it across from him. He was older than Will by nearly a decade, lines of silver streaking his ashen hair and the telltale signs of age defining his dark eyes. But he was beautiful with high cheekbones, thin lips and eyes the strange blend of blood and earth that looked as though they would consume Will if he let them, suck him dry and swallow him whole. It made his cock twitch and the piece of him that had been board with the monotony of life stand to attention, interest spiked and stimulation needed, craved. This man was waking things in Will he wasn’t sure how to turn off again. “Do I get to lay the same conditions?”

A smug smile pulled the man’s lips into an alluring bow. “You can try.” He touched another pawn moving it forward to tempt Will’s rook.

He took the bait, too curious to see what might come next should he play. “What do the pawns represent?”

“The number of hours for which you will be mine,” The words were laced with hunger; one Will knew had nothing to do with food and everything to do with flesh.

He turned his eyes to the dismissed pawns, “I have two to your one. What does that earn me? Does that earn me an hour of freedom or an hour in which you would be mine?”

“It will earn you an hour of freedom William and taking the king will determine who owns whom.” He took the bated rook, touching the piece to his lips before setting it aside with the rest, watching Will’s inquisitive look at the newly claimed piece.

“Owns? Like a slave?” His stomach flipped, a grip of fear twisting through him even as his cock swelled.

Amused the man reached under his chair, placing a long thin box before Will who looked at it dubiously before lifting its lid. The tooled leather collar slid everything into perspective, a polished silver ring standing out from its center and sliding lock with key hole on its back.

He pulled a small silver key from his pocket, Will’s heart stop. “Yes.”

OoOoO

TBC


	2. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They play a game to decide Will's conditions for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another HUGE thank you to Whiskeyandspite and cognomen for all their encouragement while writing this chapter~<3
> 
> I really appreciate the both of you for taking the time to answer my little blurbs. C:
> 
> I'm also throwing out a fucking huge wow to everyone who read and commented on the first chapter of this fic, thank you I really appreciate the encouragement and love~<3 I was expected about 200 views and 3 comments, the response to this was far beyond my expectations! So thank you all who read, kudoed and commented. 
> 
> ALL updates are late due to family vacation and my lack of skill in writing fiction on my cell phone, though more than half this chapter was written with an app on my samsung while visiting New Brunswick (yay technology)!
> 
> Now onto the story!!!
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not. Beta. Read.

Fear and anticipation shone within Will’s eyes like a tide of emotion in an ocean of grey, pairing like honey and poison as he stared at the collar with eager despair. He was denying himself that which he craved, the chance to be owned, possessed and truly desired. It made the stranger all the more desirous to give it to him.

He wanted to feel the lithe boy beneath him writhe and beg and twist, make his voice catch in his throat, hoarse and gasping with his name. He would have him begging for more, begging for release until he at last allowed his end with lust blown eyes focused on his own, gifting Will his peak only when he would know nothing but him during his moment of ecstasy.

He wanted to rule Will until nothing remained within him but the twisting words of Master and Hannibal, the names becoming one and the same.

The collar remained where Will could see it, where the finely tooled leather could distract him with thoughts of slavery, orders, ownership and pleasure. A reminder of Will’s all too near future as he settled strategies that would ultimately fail within his mind.

“I still don’t know your name.” Will challenged, turning from the collar to the game and choosing another piece to continue the dangerous play when he should have been running.

“You’ll know it well enough by the end of the night.” He baited a piece, allowing Will to win another pawn and sample the taste of small victory before capturing his bishop in return, “If you choose to stay.” It was an offer, but it would be his last one, now that the cards were being revealed and a true understanding of the evening reached.

Will took the man’s rook instead, “Tell me the bets.” He lifted the piece to find a G delicately carved at its base, a neatly scrawled loop that had him closer examining those remaining in play, there was a letters etched into each.

The stranger took Wills victory piece to examine its base with a smile, "You've freed your voice."  
He explained, returning the rook to a puzzled Will to examine the marking again.

A sudden realization made him shiver, "Gag?" He swallowed, wishing for a glass of something with a percentage high enough to take the edge off.

"Yes," Hannibal conceded, pleased with the young man’s quick uptake, Will reached for the white rook that had been kissed in victory, searching its base for the markings of his punishment.

A scrawled B had his hands shaking, eyes locked on the finely engraved letter as though it might come to life should he turn from it. Fingers a touch darker than his own took the ivory chess piece to be examined once more by carnal shaded eyes. "My victory is your sight sweet William, your restraint a blindfold of my choosing," Deep maroon sought storm grey that refused to meet their master, "Though I am loath to cover them, the elusive gems that they are."

"What are the rest?" Will tried not to think about the idea of a blindfold, of losing one sense while having the man play with the others, touch, scent and sound heightened to whatever torments he might bring. He supressed a shiver and shifted his eyes to the board as he tried to settle his mind on the game and not the charming stranger before him.

He hummed his consideration for Will’s request, a debate to leave him in the dark or allow him to know the truth of things to come. The man selected a bishop, sliding his thumb along its marking grove with an appreciative look to Will who would be one to endure its punishment should the piece survive. "Each rook stands for its own restraint. Blindfold or gag." He rolled the piece between his fingers, "the knights are tortures,” He caught the fleeting gems of blue with the ominous word, could see the struggle of excitement and fear dancing within him, “pleasure or pain."

Will’s attention fell to the suddenly menacing piece, unsure which thought bubbled him more fear within him, "What do you mean 'pleasure' or 'pain'? Elaborate." The insistence earned him a look, darkly amused and nothing more, the roles of master and slave, owner and pet settling in. Those were details in which Will was not privy to, not until he was made ready to experience such torments.

"The bishops represent bondage and suspension.” He continued, Will didn’t know what suspension was but he had an inclination and didn’t’ want it confirmed. As soon as he figured out which of the bishops stood for the strange kink he planned to take it. “The queen is for the collar that will dress your throat and mark you as my own until you leave." There was irony in that he was sure, Will was positive it wasn’t just coincidence that the first piece he had stolen would be the one to mark him.

"But you can only use what you win and I can free myself of each by winning back the mirrored pieces...I win freedom if I take your king." He almost laughed, understanding at last why no name had been given. "If I win I get your name. If you win I'll get your tittle."

"Such a clever boy," He took another piece, casting only a brief glance to the knight’s base before placing it to the side, leaving Will to wonder of the torment.

His heart was hammering, the voice of reason within his mind warning him to run, thank the man for the evening and return to his boring little apartment with his boring dead end life and the pack of strays looking to play fetch with him out back.

But the desire stirring low in his belly for this man was making his cock twitch, the flesh swelling with anticipation of things to come with each piece countered and claimed, its evidence pressing to the fly of his now constricting khaki’s. It had him reaching forward to steal his other rook instead, freeing both sight and voice from the strangers grasp. He had been so bored.

He wasn't bored now.

The man had been playing with him, or so Will thought, skirting his pieces around the board to pick off Will’s at his leisure, seemingly sacrificing one only to claim another.

But, Will was made to understand all too clearly as the stranger quickly maneuvered Will into a checkmate with the final addition of his queen to the small growing pile of torments. By the board’s edge sat Will’s queen, knight and bishop, their copies remaining protected in game behind enemy lines, keeping the three winnings secure against Will’s advances to reclaim freedom from each.

"I believe I've won." Hannibal smiled, rising to walk the short distance from his seat to Will's, leaning over the young man’s shoulder to take the leather strip in hand, admiring it’s beauty as his lips skimmed the shell of Will's ear, "What's your safe word?" the touch of cool leather wrapped his throat, the symbol of his claiming encircling him with the touch of warm fingers that guided it.

Teeth nipped the shell of his ear, surprise and pain dragging a startled gasp from Will as the sound of the lock clicked. The soft noise made by the buckle against his throat was enough to let realization hit home.

This was happening, it wasn’t a joke. He had lost a game and for the next…Will counted the pawns, subtracting his own, three hours he belonged to this man.

He swallowed, throat clicking dry as he stared at the chess board before them, eyes trained on his cornered king, the enclosed queen and bishop blocking his path, a simple pawn ready to take him should he move forward. A surrounded King with nowhere to go, “checkmate,” Will murmured.

“How poetic,” The man reached forward, taking Will’s King to lay the piece on its side, defeated as Will had been defeated.

Will swallowed, feeling the slide of fingers alone the leather of his collar, a rough pad gliding along the juxtaposition of leather and flesh. It made him swallow again, feel the new fastening shift with the motion of his skin as though it were a part of him. “When do I get your name?” He asked as a finger curled beneath his chin tilting his head to steal the fleeting glances of stormy eyes.

“You lost William,” He said as if to sooth, his thumb smoothing over the sensitive skin of a shaven jaw, “my name is of no concern to you now. For tonight you will know me only as Master.” Again he felt the shift of leather over his skin, every movement a reminder of his loss and enslavement. “Dinner will not be ready for a few hours,” The man smiled, sliding a finger through the loop at the front of Will’s throat to give a gentle tug, testing the constriction of the fasten. “We have time to enjoy ourselves beforehand.” He took Will’s glasses, useless things that they were of plane glass framed to let him hide. He wouldn’t be allowed to hide anymore, not here.

Eyes locked on the little figures of polished onyx and ivory as Will tried to settle his racing heart, watching as a velvet lined box was laid by the board to be filled with the conquering pieces that had decided his fate for the night.

“What are my conditions?” Will asked, mouth dry as each piece was considered by the man before him with a look of gratitude, an appreciation for the gift of Will’s body which they had conquered.

“You are my slave for the evening Will and I your master.” He placed the king before him, next the queen, “you will wear your collar until you leave or I relieve you of it.” Will’s eyes slid to the breast pocket of the man’s vest, to where the key resides between layers of fine sink lining and brushed wool, tucked away safe and secure from searching hands.

The barest pull of lips reminded Will that he was being watched and the line of his sight followed, he quickly averted his attention back to the hand presenting him with the stranger’s bounty, a bishop selected to stand beside the queen, “Bonds,” Will felt his stomach roll, the twist of something inside him as the last piece was selected, a knight he had not been able to claim, “and pleasure.” His finger seemed to linger on the knight, a dark light playing through his eyes as darker thoughts announced themselves beneath a growing excitement. He placed them into the box, the weight of each piece pressing into the velvet that bedded them nothing to the suffocating burden that pressed upon Will.

As the lid was slid into place and the heavy box made to disappear Will knew it would not be the last time he would see its punishing contents.

He already wanted to see them again.

“I’ve never done this before,” Will admitted, trying to smother some of his nervous tension, “I’m not really sure where to begin or when.” Bloody eyes set on Will as though he were a feast.

“We begin now.” His tone was almost gentle, “You will follow my instructions precisely and without question or hesitation. I do not appreciate repeating myself, nor being made to wait.” Though each statement was announced with clarity, command, and the slow civility as though they were casually discussing the weather or dinner he allowed no excess time to be given for Will to process the information before his first demand was given in easy succession, “Strip.”

It took Will a moment to allow the simple word to register, his mind catching up with the weight carried by its predecessors. “Excuse me?”

“I am not in the habit of repeating myself, nor should I; you are not hard of hearing William.” He reprimanded; the barest tilt of his head, considering glace, sharpness to his demeanor.

A heated flush was creeping beneath Will skin, his face and neck feeling hot as he tried again to digest what was being demanded of him. “You want me to strip in your dining room?”

Sanguine eyes narrowed as Hannibal’s thin lips drew into an unreadable line as he waited for Will to comply. Such second chances were not often given, a gift of such unwise to waist for pride.

Will had known that sex was on the table, he had been looking forward to it, he was more than aware of the strange kink the man was entertaining, but he had expected it to take place in the bedroom , not a well lite main floor with glass doors to one side. It presented the risk of being seen in places where naked men should not be seen, displayed. “And should I refuse?”

“There will be repercussions for such actions.” The barest pull of that smile was back. ”As there will be for this one now,” Will felt his cock gave another humiliating twitch, “You have made me wait William, such behaviour is intolerable. I will not have it permitted. If you cannot correct your insolence I will.” It was a final warning, a grace for his naivety to the lifestyle he would be adapting, for the young man to offer apologise and ride himself of his clothing.

The humiliating torment both terrifying and thrilling was leaving him hard, wet and needy. His tormentor would see that as soon as he stood, naked or dressed, the unavoidable was making Will loath to rise from his seat and allow himself to be degraded. “And what will these corrections consist of?” He pressed, unrelenting as the man approached; each step an ominous promise of retribution for his defiance.

The boy would learn.

He touched the cheap fabric of Will’s shift, the polyester making a soft sound as it was rubbed between fingers, the stranger making a quiet hum of consideration before a movement of force unsuspected in the man’s compact frame gripped him between the shoulders to trap him against the tables top, his breath catching in his throat as the kiss of cool metal against his skin slid between his shirt and flesh.

The sound of fabric tearing made his stomach flip, his shirt falling in ruins around his shoulders as cool air breathed over the flush heated skin of his back. He gripped the tables edge with a white knuckled grip and forgot to breath.

The tip of the blade touched his pants, sliding beneath the hem of waist and belt. “Okay!” Will blurted, pushing against the hand that sat between his shoulder, cool and firm. “I’ll take them off.”

His hand slid from Will’s shoulders to curve at the base of his skull, grip tightening around the back of his neck as though it were the collar made to fit him instead of the leather clasped around his throat, the smooth cool saw of a knife cutting through aged khaki’s and cheap leather at the small of his back letting the waiter know his reparation was too little too late, “You will apologize William, and you will not force my hand again.” He did not stop, the leather giving with a pop to let the waist of Will’s pants fall loose across his hips, the knife continuing down the back of his ass to take the tear further, until the knifes point touched the smooth wood of his chair.

Will felt the hand around him tighten, perhaps in warning, perhaps reminder, for the next three hours this man was his master, it was a fact he would not soon forget. “I’m…sorry…” Were the choked words, his wounded pride making them broken as he bit them out through embarrassment.

It was an inadequate apology, but Will was learning and some lenience was to be expected during training. A moment of quite passed as the man debated acceptance of the redress before the hand released its hold upon him to instead drag a gentle caress down his spine, knuckle leaving the ghost of a shiver in its wake.

"Strip." He instructed again. Leaving the cool metal from Will's skin and stepping back to wait, watch for compliance.

Nervous Will stood, the swell of his erection made evident over the sagging of his pants and thin cotton of his boxer briefs, a damp mark revealing his excitement on the front as the heat of his blush crawled further beneath his skin, the color creeping down his throat and over his shoulders and chest as his shirt fell from his arms in shredded ruins.

Hannibal watched with an appraising eye, drinking in Will as though he were Holy Grail itself, a thing of value, beauty and worth instead of the lowly waiter that he was as each layer was shed with flushing skin and numb fingers.

Standing in the man’s dining room dressed in nothing but his underwear, collar and the hot gaze that ran over his flesh like palms, Will’s thumbs sat beneath the hem of his final piece, but in his nervousness did not move, the remaining ruins laying pooled by his feet on the floor.

There would be no more warnings. That much was revealed in the heat of the stair upon him. Forcing down his trepidation,  ignoring the voice of reason and warning ringing out within him Will slid the last bit of fabric from his person, hissing at the feel of cotton as it slid over his sensitive head before allow his swelling cock to bounce free and curve against his stomach.

The man made an appreciative noise as Will stepped out of clothing. "Good.” He stepped closer, letting his hand slid along the smooth flesh of his side, gliding around to Will’s front where it moved beneath but not around his growing erection, skimming the skin of his stomach beneath to make the muscles jump at his touch, his breath hitch and shake at the teasing stroke. “Take your valuables from your pockets, you may leave them on the table.” The hand left his skin feeling needy for more as touch disappeared for Will to gather his clothing, retrieve his wallet and phone from his pocket to leave on the table as instructed. “The rest you will dispose in the trash under the sink."

His stomach dropped, standing before this man dressed in nothing but a collar he felt vulnerable, humiliated and exposed, unable to deny his blatant arousal as he was circled and evaluated by calculating, hungry eyes. He pulled his lip between his teeth biting into the flesh in an old habit of comfort.

Will’s breaking would be a beautiful thing, when he at last move with confidence and obedience, feeling secure in the reveal of his body to his master, succumbing to command with the ease of second nature and security of being owned.

The man’s eyes never left him as Will carried the last of his freedom into the kitchen, adrenalin burning through his veins like fire as he opened the cupboard under the sink and looked at the bin beneath. He could feel the man’s bloody eyes drawn to him, watching, waiting for Will to succumb, to obey.

Swallowing to feel the tug of leather over his skin he let the tattered clothing fall into the bin and felt the last of his freedom disappear with it, the man, his master, easing the door closed for him to let the articles disappear. He hadn’t heard his approach, eerily quiet in his advance, but he felt the hand that slid along his collar, the gentle tug of fingers beneath the leather to pull it taught, the strap biting into his skin as he was tugged back against the toned form of his master, a possessive hand encircling around him to reward him for his obedience with a slow pleasing stroke from root to tip, making Will quiver and cling to the body that held him as knees became weak.

“Good boy.”

OoOoO

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are swinging from suspension ropes like Tarzan, your comments are playing baseball with ball gags and paddles. 
> 
> The author is setting up shop in the closet to watch with popcorn and subscribers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are throwing chess pieces, your comments are trying on the collar.


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